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Barefoot In Surin

Once again it was time to leave the village and grab the VIP bus from Surin back to Bangkok . I had to catch the plane back to the states after a couple of last days in Bangkok . This is always a hard time for me and my lady and our daughter. Now-a-days I bring my daughter Starbeam with me to Bangkok with my lady and her sister. She gets very upset if she's not allowed to see me off at the airport. Crying little girls being a severe weakness of mine, she gets to go. My lady doesn't like to travel alone in Bangkok , it can be dangerous for a lone Thai woman there, so her sister always comes with us so she'll have someone to travel with back to Surin. It is much safer.

There are a lot of maggots who'll try to rob a lone Thai woman in Thailand. If you've seen those nasty real life "True Detective" type magazines a lot of the Thai ladies like to read you'll see many gory pictures of ladies who were robbed, sexually assaulted and murdered in there, usually by some taxi driver with a lone lady passenger. My lady does get nervous when alone and I guess she has good reason. Some of you may be surprised to know that Thai on Thai crime is fairly rampant, and violent. You don't read as much about it in the English language papers, but from what I've been told by my lady and others it is a legitimate concern. I've been warned not to flash any cash at bus stops and such places while traveling about the countryside, especially late at night. Not that I do anyway, as I am a city guy and pretty street smart and can be fairly dangerous in my own right, but there have been places where there were gangs of unsavory looking characters hanging about in the middle of nowhere at 3 or 4 a.m. where it was advisable to be alert and not come across looking like a possible victim. The only real problems I've had in Thailand so far have been with other falangs (foreigners), falang kii nok, (foreign bird shit this means. A derogatory Thai term for unsavory foreigners), drunks, druggies and desperados these mostly are. A few pick pockets have tried me, and failed every time so far. Just stay alert and usually there won't be a problem.

We packed up for the trip and loaded the truck. The lady and her husband who own the truck I used to rent would come with us to the bus station in Surin and drop us off. I usually try to leave a bit early to assure seats on the bus. The bus leaves at 9:50 at night and I try to get there two hours early and grab the tickets. Once the tickets are in hand we go to a small outdoor restaurant next to the Surin train depot that has great food for small baht (money), and cold beers. I love the spicy clams there!

I'm usually in a pensive mood during this "last supper" and try to soak in as much of the atmosphere of Surin as possible for later emotional use when back in the states. I love Surin. I can lay in bed and close my eyes and drift back there, smelling and tasting the food, hearing the Thai spoken around me sounding like a sweet melodic Asian jazz, feeling the air's heat and moisture dampening my brow, scratching the itchy mosquito bites on my ankles, the laughter and sanuk (fun) of the diners at the surrounding tables filling me with a sadness at my looming departure which I can feel still each and every time. I suppose if I went to a psychiatrist during these reminiscences I'd be diagnosed as having Major Depression. I hate leaving. Someday the only way I'll depart this land will be as an urn full of ashes.

My lady's sister always knows when I'm "thinking too much" as the Thais put it so quaintly, and cracks jokes, and messes with me, and gets me laughing. She's very astute and reads my moods well. I love her like my own sisters. Somewhere in my head though, no matter what's going on, the refrain, "But I don't want to go, don't want to go, to go, to go ..." echoes through my little remaining grey matter.

Once home little things will bring me back to Thailand in short, vivid flashbacks; the sun striking my face will cause me to lift my snout to its radiant heat and, closing my eyes, I'll drift off to find myself on a beach chair on Jomtien Beach baking in the hot sunshine. The sound of rain hitting the roof a certain way will bring me directly to a beer bar on Pattaya Beach Road, where I sometimes I have spent hours playing games and drinking beers while the pounding monsoon rains beat a lively rhythm into my brain. A bus driving by spouting diesel fumes at home in Boston will smell to me as fragrant and sweet as a perfume of the finest French stores, and will drag me by my nose to the corner of a Bangkok street in my mind. A pretty Asian girl walking by me in the streets of Boston will almost bring me to tears of frustration as I wait to see my lady, now wife, again. I have things to do in the states and need to be away sometimes for a few weeks at a time.

I'm infected of an illness whose only cure lies in Thailand it seems, my doctor a raven haired temptress with flashing obsidian eyes and a laugh as charming as a small tinkling Buddhist temple bell. I make love to her for medicinal purposes only. For some strange reason my health insurance won't cover my illness and I seem doomed until enough cash is injected into the wallet on my hip and a plane ticket is clutched in my feverish hands. First class on a jumbo jet is my life saving operating amphitheater. Such are my thoughts; and I am as loathe to leave my beloved Surin and board the bus as a man is to put his foot on the first step leading up to the gallows pole. But I don't want to go; to go, to go, to go ... echoes in my brain.

But I ramble and digress. I apologize.

So we finish our "last supper" in Surin, bless the funny, cute little Lao-looking teenage waitress with sufficient baht for a nice tip, and grabbing our luggage, vacate the premises. We head down the soi toward the bus depot. My little village daughter scampering about us laughing and skipping, stopping to watch and giggle as two teens play badminton without a net in the street square. A soi (street) dog joins us and unseemingly keeps trying to sniff my butt. Strange and exotic smelling farangs seem to fascinate these beasts. I still think it's my Mennen's musk scented underarm deodorant. Either that or my pleasantly odiferous farts are a tantalizing treat for the mutts. I think they believe my arse to be a meal of tender duck.

A mangy soi dog

“Quuuaaaaaaccccccckkkk! There, chew on that for a while ya mangy mutt!” I think gleefully as I cut a ripe one and, turning back, I spy the previously curious canine lying twitching on the road as though the victim of a nerve gas attack.

We trudge over to the VIP bus finally and deposit our baggage into the belly of the monster. My lady and daughter climb aboard while Sis and I grab a last couple of smokes before retiring aboard to strictly enforced nicotine deprivation. I look around at the city square and gather in my last few minutes of the city into my suffering soul.

Out of the corner of my eye I notice something. A lady is walking in the street. With her are two small children, almost toddlers. The youngest, a boy I notice, has on only a t-shirt, no pants or drawers. The older kid has on shorts and a t-shirt that look like they've been handed down for the past ten years. Momma is in an old sleeveless blouse and a thin, cotton, wrap around sarong-like skirt. All of them are walking barefoot on the tarmac. What the hell? "Barefoot in Surin and not a beach in sight for miles." runs through my disturbed and addled brain for some reason.

I nudge Sis, and nodding my head towards the barefoot trio ask her, “How come they not wearing shoes? I never see Thai walk in the city in the street with no shoes on.”

She looks at them, and says, "I think no good. Think have no baht."

I ponder this as we watch them walk slowly by us; Momma's face so devoid of expression as to seem made of carved stone.

"You think they have no baht to eat?" I prod Sister with the question.

She turns and looks me in the eye with a serious look on her strong dark Issan face and nods her head. I take a 100 baht note from my pocket and folding it small stick it in her hand. "You give to Momma for me, okay? For the babies." I say to her.

She makes a face and a small grunting noise as if to say I'm nuts. I look at her and nod my head towards the shoeless Momma and raise my eyebrows in urging. Sis walks over in that waddling gait of hers that amuses me so much and makes me smile. She goes over to the Momma and, talking quietly to her, slips the baht into Momma's hand surreptitiously while nodding over towards me. Momma listens and looks over at me and wais deeply. I nod to her, mutter a "my pen lye" (no problem. It "doesn't matter" this means), and, flipping my cigarette butt into a puddle next to the bus, turn and climb aboard and find my seat next to my lass and our daughter.

Sis climbs on board a few minutes later and waddles down the aisle smiling and comes up to me and says, laughing oddly enough, "You have good heart. Make good luck for you."

I grunt at her, and mumble something like, "Ahhhhshaddup."

I know I don't have a good heart. I did it for the most selfish of reasons. I figure if Buddha was watching and he caught that then maybe I could gain some merit and he'll give me a little extra time on this trip through this life before I one day have to take that last flight as an urn full of ashes.

And what did it cost me, the price of one beer back home? Not a bad investment if it works.

Cent

(The Central Scrutinizer)

Barefoot in Surin

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